


You Give Me Fever

by finnick



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Begging, Come Marking, Cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom Stiles, Erica-centric, F/M, Name-Calling, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, Sub Erica, mentioned past Erica Reyes/Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 14:44:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5590228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finnick/pseuds/finnick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erica Reyes has been a werewolf for just over a month. Along with a lot of other important shit, her alpha neglected to warn her about heat - a terrible, awful thing that's apparently going to be a regular part of her life from now on. On top of that, Stiles seems to be able to sense the worst times to reach out to her, because is now really the best time to worry about helping her lifelong crush get his academic life together? It's too bad she just can't bring herself to tell him no.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Give Me Fever

**Author's Note:**

> the title is from fever by kanary diamonds. this is sort of set in an au, but it's mostly just canon divergent. set sometime in the last few weeks of their sophomore year. anyway it happens during the last couple of weeks of their junior year. i wrote it for my [smutty tw bingo table](http://sterica.dreamwidth.org/322.html), mirrored [here](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/TWSmuttyBingo) on dw; the prompt is _heat_.

Erica sat on the edge of her bed with her lip caught between her teeth, watching the sun lower behind the line of trees outside her window. She was focusing on the tops of the trees, the leaves just barely moving in the breeze, and doing her best to ignore the burning ache between her legs. It was a hard task, but she had been able to accomplish it so far.

She had only been a werewolf for a few weeks, give or take some days, but tonight, she felt different than she ever had before. The sensation had started the day before, but now it was almost maddening. It wasn't unfamiliar, exactly. She would admit that she had an unusually high sex drive, if someone asked her to tell the truth, but this was different. She had never felt something so intense, so wholly consuming. She had already tried to take care of it herself – in her bed (twice,) in the shower (once with her hands, once with the shower head,) and even at her desk (once,) while she sat in front of her laptop, unable to focus on the essay she was supposed to be writing. The homework hadn't gotten done and, apparently, neither had she.

Just as the sun dropped, her phone went off beside her with a buzz. The mattress vibrated when it did and she shifted a bit, biting back a whimper. It ended too quickly to do much of anything for her, and she began to heave a disappointed sigh when she reached for her phone, but it died in her throat when she saw who the text message was from. Stiles. His photo popping up on the screen sent a surge of heat from her lower stomach to the tips of her fingers, and she scrambled to grab her phone to reply.

The text wasn't much, just, 'Can I borrow your notes from biology today?' but it still made her smile. It also reminded her that they had a test coming up soon. She tapped out her reply, telling him that he could borrow her notes, if he came and got them. He replied almost instantly, promising to be there soon, and it didn't fully sink in that she'd probably just made a gigantic mistake until she heard the increasingly familiar rumble of his jeep getting steadily closer to her house.

"Fuck," she said, glancing at herself in the full length mirror across from her bed. She was in a pair of black leggings with a tank top roughly 3 sizes too big hanging down past her thighs. She pulled her hair tie out and let her hair cascade down her back, thankful, and not for the first time, that the bite had made her consistently attractive. She bent over, flipped her head upside down, and tousled it until it looked perfect, stylish but unintentionally so, and stared at her feet for a few seconds before deciding to just stay barefoot.

By the time she finished, she heard Stiles coming up the staircase, stomping loud enough to sound like an entire army. His scent filled the air around her, and she picked up on his heartbeat almost immediately, absentmindedly running her tongue over her lips. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, he smelled good. She pressed her thighs together a bit, trying to fight off the heat beginning to pool there, doing her best to ignore the sudden slickness. She was so thankful that he wasn't able to smell her moods, or hear her heart as it hammered away in her chest.

"I'm here," he announced when he entered the room. She shook her head and gave a little scoff, trying to seem anything but excited to see him, even though her heart was hammering so hard it hurt.

"Obviously. I can see you."

"Yeah, I know, I was just... You know what, nevermind. Can I get those notes from you?"

"Yeah, sure. Wait here."

He took a seat on her bed without asking, and the visual of him in her bed made her mouth dry. She stared just a split second too long, earning her a perplexed look from Stiles, but she brushed the encounter off by rushing over to her backpack. She dug her biology notes out, adding another day's worth just for good measure, and delivered them into his lap.

"There. I didn't realize you were in a rush or I would've had them ready, sorry," she said, somewhat sincerely. He gave her the same perplexed look.

"I'm not in a hurry. I just didn't want to invade your weekend or anything."

"You're not invading my weekend."

"Well, I don't have anything to do today. Anywhere to go. Whatever. I'm just gonna go home and read these. Or maybe I'll go to the library instead, I don't know. Somewhere quiet."

Without thinking, she replied, "You can just stay here, you know, I mean, uh..." She trailed off, awkward. She shifted her weight from one foot to the next, ignoring the tingling sensation between her thighs. "If you want. No one's home, so it's quiet."

It was true. No one was home. No one was ever home, actually, and the only sound in the entire house was the air conditioner humming steadily, accented with the occasional kick from the ice maker. She hated it sometimes, how lonely it felt, but she was thankful to have a quiet house now.

He looked a bit taken aback, but eventually he nodded.

"Yeah, yeah okay. I'll stay." She grinned in response, and albeit with a bit of hesitation, he smiled right back at her.

Their relationship was kind of weird. He'd held her once, while Derek snapped her arm, and he'd rescued her from the Argents' basement by showing up with his dad and what seemed like the entire Beacon Hills police force. She, on the other hand, had knocked him out with the starter of his own keep (to protect him!) and confessed to having feelings for him seconds before two werewolves practically tore through a wall nearby. They'd never talked about any of those things again, regrettably, and now it'd been so long that bringing one up would be awkward. Of course, time for them wasn't measured in months and weeks; it was events. It had only been a few weeks since she'd gotten the bite, just over a month at the most, but it felt like it'd been years. For Erica, five minutes probably would be too long for her to want to discuss something that happened. Since the bite, the statute of limitations for her was basically immediately: once something was over, it was over.

The problem was that her crush on Stiles was absolutely not over. The wetness between her legs confirmed that.

"I can even help you study," she offered, reaching out to pull the notes from him. She read over them even though she practically had them memorized, suppressing the ache by ignoring it completely. Her handwriting was crisp and easy to read, with all the precision of someone who grew up with no friends, and thus all the time in the world to perfect plenty of skills, she noted idly, glancing up at Stiles. He nodded and patted the bed next to him.

"Yeah, sure, come sit, Erica." She had never expected her own name to sound so hot, but it did when he said it. She wanted him to say it again. However, for now, she would just have to settle for sitting on the bed beside him, and she did. She laid the first page of the notes between them, halfway on his thigh and halfway on hers, and pointed to the index she'd written at the top.

"I don't know which part of Biology you don't get." She would need to know that to be able to help him.

He stared at the list for a second, his expression very nearly blank, and then he said, a bit dumbfounded, "Uh... all of it?" His head ducked a bit, like he was embarrassed. She wondered how, exactly, he didn’t understand biology when he was in the same class as she was. But then she remembered that he wasn’t, really, because he missed as many days as he showed up for.

She laughed and shook her head, gesturing at the list again. "Well we gotta start somewhere, Stiles."

"I don't even get the point in biology. Why can't some classes be optional?"

"Why can't some people stop whining?"

"Hey, that was rude! And besides, I don't whine; I complain."

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling again. She leaned over to look closer at the page they were sharing, scanning it until she found a good starting point. Her finger stopped on the first thing in the list, cleverly titled “The Basics”, which was apparently exactly where Stiles needed to be.

"Alright, Captain Complains-A-Lot, let's start here."

***

Somehow, by the skin of her teeth, Erica kept it together the entire time they studied. They read every page of her notes from beginning to end and wow, she was glad Stiles had called her. Without her help, he probably would've failed. It was amazing he was even in an AP class, with how little devotion he had to his schoolwork, but he was pretty smart. It made sense that he'd ace a placement test regardless of homework scores, and probably nail his exams so well that they couldn’t justify booting him out of the good classes. Yet. She’d overheard him talking to a teacher the week before, talking about how he’d have to do better with attendance and homework the next year, if he wanted to be able to play lacrosse. He thanked her a few times between her bed and the front door, and she followed behind him, waving off every one.

"It's alright," she said, but she was thinking, 'Please leave so I can go smell you on my pillows and finger myself until I can't cum anymore.' She wondered if that showed on her face.

Apparently, it didn't though, because he moved forward to wrap his arms around her. They were just beneath her ribs, the hold of a boy trying to say thank you, casually. Platonically.

But his hands were on her, and that was more than enough to make her tighten up around nothing, a new wave of heat flooding her panties, leaving her cheeks ever so slightly stained pink. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him against her tighter, escalating the hug just a bit.

And then, for some reason, she escalated it a lot. She annihilated it, in fact, because she leaned up and pressed her mouth straight onto his, giving him a quick but firm kiss. (Her first one that wasn’t with Derek, for the record, and she’d already decided that those didn’t count.)

"You're welcome," she replied when she pulled back, unable to bring herself to meet his eyes.

Yikes, she was dumb. All that had done was make her ache worse, and it had probably made things awkward again, and things were already so fucking awkward with their history of having always found a way to get tangled up in one another. Her heart was slamming in her ears, her chest so tight she could hardly breathe, and she considered, for just a split second, tearing his tongue out so he wouldn’t be able to tell her ‘Hey, no, I don’t feel that way about you’ or, worse yet, tell anyone else what had happened. Lost in her thoughts, it didn't occur to her to pull away from his body entirely, unfortunately, and that dawned on her only after seeing his eyes drift down to where their chests met, where her hardened nipples were pressing into the firm slope of his chest. She opened her mouth to explain, to make an excuse, to do anything, but his hands cupping her face silenced her, even on the inside. The only noise left inside of her was her hammering heartbeat and a hurried, slurred whisper that sounded kind of like his name, but kind of like alkjsdgkljsdg too.

He tipped her head up to meet her eyes and looked into them for what felt like centuries, seemingly searching her for... something. She wasn’t sure what he could be looking for. She wasn’t sure if he would find it. She kept her eyes on his, though, and even if she felt her knees beginning to give out, she forced herself to stand up straight. She could count the flecks of gold in his eyes from here though, where they swirled in with the brown, and she kind of hated herself for even noticing it. She wanted to say something, to break eye contact, to pull away from him, but she couldn’t. He had a hold on her that felt almost supernatural, like the very forces of the universe were tethering her body to his.

He still didn’t break eye contact with her when he leaned down to press their lips together again.

It was different, this time. Longer. Softer but more urgent, increasingly needy. Eyes fluttering closed, she parted her lips the second his tongue asked for entry, moaning softly when it brushed against hers. She melted in his arms, reveling in the way his fingers twisted into her hair to drag her closer to him, the way he kissed her until he couldn't breathe.

He brushed his nose over hers when he pulled away for air, staying so close that every breath he took ghosted over her lips, and they stared at each other for a second, wordless, before she caught his mouth again. There was nothing to say, really, and there was no way for her to explain the ache between her thighs, or to even express it other than taking his hands into hers and guiding themboth up to her chest, squeezing them over her, pressing her nipples into his palms.

"Fuck me?" She whispered into his mouth, giving him a questioning glance. She was never one for subtlety, or hinting, or beating around the bush. If she wanted something, she asked for it. The look on his face was an incredulous one, but he nodded almost immediately.

"Yeah, yeah. I want to, Erica," he replied softly, kissing his way over her jaw and down to her neck, coaxing another little moan from her. "Wanted to since the first time I saw you. In the gym."

His words surprised her, but the sentiment was lost on her, for the most part. With his hands on her and his mouth so close, his body so close and so willing, the ache she'd been ignoring had taken a life of its own, leaving her desperate and nearly animalistic almost immediately.

She slid her hands up the front of his shirt, sighing pleasantly when she was met with lean muscles and a streak of hair between his belly button and the waistband of his pants, and again when she felt the firmness of his chest, accentuated by more hair. She ran her fingers over his stomach for a moment, tracing the dips of his rib cage and the slopes of his muscles, taut and unexpected, before she pushed his shirt up over his head. She leaned in to press her mouth against the place where his jaw met his neck, kissing over every freckle on the way down, stopping somewhere between his shoulder and his bicep.

"We should go upstairs," she said, her voice soft and ragged.

She tossed his shirt over her shoulder in a way that might've seemed casual, if her hands weren't trembling, then she glanced at the stairs, then back at him. He moved away, and she watched him start upstairs for a split second before she moved forward to scoop him up, lifting him off of the ground with ease. Bigger than her or not (and just barely, at that,) he was still a human, and picking him up took almost no effort for her. He seemed taken aback, at first, but he seemed to adjust easily when she pressed their chests together, drawing his legs around her waist.

"Uh.. This is hot and all, but I'm pretty sure this part’s supposed to be my job," he protested, settling against her all the same.

"Fuck gender roles, Stiles, I’ll carry you if I want to," she said simply, as close to deadpan as she could get with her heart in her throat and the flames of hell between her thighs.

She neatly slid her hands down to cup his ass, holding his body as close as she could while she started up the stairs. She tried to ignore the bulge of his cock pressing against her stomach, about halfway hard and grinding against her every time she took a step. It seemed unintentional, at first, until she realized that his hips were rocking ever so slightly against her. The thought of him being so needy made her growl a bit, low and hungry. She lowered her head to find his mouth and kissed him roughly, nibbling at his bottom lip until they parted, taking her tongue in.

She was pretty sure he was going to protest, but within a few kisses, his voice died out except for a barely audible whisper of, "Okay," that was more breaths than words. She grinned against his skin, and leaned up to press her mouth to his again, fighting off the temptation to pin him to the wall behind them.

She pulled his body closer to hers, crushing them as closely together as she could, coaxing a soft whine from his throat that made her stomach flip. Soon enough, she was laying him out on her bed and climbing on top of him with ease, keeping his legs wrapped around her waist so she could grind herself down into him. He moaned again, but then his hands were on her hips, pulling her up off of him. He brought his legs together and pulled him on top of her, arching his hips to press the firm bulge of his cock against her.

They were still for a moment, the two of them, with their mouths pressed together and their eyes closed, taking sharp, shaky breaths. His heartbeat hammered in Erica's ears like a war drum, an overwhelming sound that seemed to be tangible, hanging thick in the air around them, tangled in with desire and nerves and something she couldn't quite place, and it was enough to make her feel like she couldn't breathe. She was snapped back to reality, back to him by a sudden, quick roll of his hips. There wasn't as much friction as she wanted, because she was already wet, wet enough that their hips slid easily against one another, his cock pressed between her lips almost perfectly, making her clit swell, her back arch, her knees weak.

"You're gonna make me cum like this, Stiles," she whispered after a moment, and it was true.

"What's wrong with that?"

"Not like this. I want to be on your cock," she said, voice just barely over a whisper now. It was breathy and labored, but saying things like that to Stiles was easy. She'd been thinking them about him for as long as she could remember, had imagined countless ways she'd like to fuck him, taste him, make him cum. She couldn't remember all of the fantasies, even, there were so many; he'd made her wake up soaking wet plenty of times since she'd first spotted him.

Talking dirty to him felt natural, almost, like she'd been doing it for years. She tested it out more, adding, "I want to cum all over your cock, Stiles. Because it's mine now. You're mine now."

To her surprise, she felt the wolf inside her stir as the last words left her mouth. She didn't have to look to know that her claws were extended, that her eyes were glowing. She looked up at him, unsure if she would be met with fear (because she could tear him apart in this scenario, really, with the right combination of arousal and need and possessiveness, plus a decent bout of good old fashioned lycanthropy,) but she was met with curiosity, shyness. It was almost funny that he was looking at her that way with his cock grinding against her pussy.

"Am I? Yours now?" He asked, with a smirk playing on his lips. "What is that, a werewolf thing? You go into heat and claim a mate?" His voice was light, teasing, but she still rolled her eyes, leaning in to kiss him harshly.

"No," she said firmly, bringing a hand up to press against the nape of his neck, drawing his face close enough to slowly drag her tongue over his jaw, from his lips to the lobe of his ear. She blew gently, reveling in the small shiver it cast through him, and added, "It's an Erica thing, just like you."

(Heat was probably the right word, though, she realized with bemusement. She was aching and desperate, totally insatiable, and she hadn't stopped to consider that it was probably heat. The birth control she still took out of pure habit had noted that she was ovulating right now too, so that made perfect sense. She was a little pissed Derek hadn't warned her, until she remembered that he probably didn't know about it, either. It wasn't like his mom or his sister would've openly discussed needing to be fucked with their son/brother. Just the thought of discussing it with Derek in general made her cringe; she'd been down the 'vaguely sexualized relationship' road with Derek before, back when she'd just gotten the bite and she just wanted someone to fuck her, and a few kisses had been more than enough to assure her that he wasn't exactly what she was looking for. She also remembered that he'd thrown her the last time she'd kissed him, anyway, so that didn't really help to make their casual 'sometimes we kiss and it's deeply implied that I would fuck you if you weren't so openly emotionally invested in Stiles' relationship work.)

"An Erica thing..." Stiles repeated, considering it. He still sounded a million miles away, like he could hardly believe this was happening to him. She nodded. He seemed to turn it over in his head for a moment, a process she helped to speed up by grinding herself against him, rolling her hips in a slow, teasing circle before she slid along the length of his shaft, closing her eyes. Her head fell forward and she hummed softly, impatiently.

"... Okay, an Erica thing," he said, breathless again. His hands came to rest on her ass and he squeezed, guiding her hips to slide along the length of him again, and then again. "Fuck, Erica. I can feel how wet you are through these leggings. Are you wearing panties?"

The question was unexpected, and it made her cheeks flush, but she didn't acknowledge it.

"Why don't you check?" Her reply was mostly facetious, but he didn't seem to pick up on that.

Before she knew it, his hand was sliding down the front of her panties, calloused fingertips sliding over the smooth, sensitive skin of her mound. Feeling the heat of her without any fabric between them coaxed another moan from Stiles. His hand came to rest on her mound, cupping the bare skin with his pale. Three of his fingers slid down further, with two of them coming to push her lips apart while his middle finger slipped between them, sliding over the slick swell of her clit, stopping only when it reached her slit, where he teased, rubbing the pad of his finger over her.

"Holy fuck, Erica," he whispered. "You're so fucking wet, I -" He stopped abruptly, pulling his hand out of her pants. She was going to ask what was wrong, had her mouth open to, until she saw that he was sucking his fingers into his mouth, making a show out of rubbing his tongue over them. She was stunned, silent, until he leaned up to press his mouth against her ear.

"Why don't you sit on my face before I fuck you? I want to take care of you, Erica. Make you feel good.”

 

She rolled her eyes at his phrasing, but the notion excited her. She couldn't help a sassy little quip as she moved off of him, reaching down to push her leggings down so she could kick them off.

"Yeah, okay, Daddy. Take care of me," she mumbled, smirking at him while she moved up to straddle his shoulders, hovering just over his face.

She expected a laugh, or something snarky right back, but what she got was, "Yeah, let Daddy take care of you."

It was supposed to be a joke, but it made her insides hot when he said it. She bit her bottom lip and nodded, lowering herself closer to his face. He opened his mouth and slid his tongue out, winking up at her. His breathing ghosted over her, making her shiver. She could hardly stand the wait, and she told him so.

"C'mon, Stiles. Daddy. Eat me out."

There was a moment of hesitation, so she looked down at him, fixing him with a querying look. He shrugged, looking almost shy.

"I've never done this before," he admitted, sounding a little ashamed, with his hands moving up to rest on her ass. "Any of this. So you'll have to teach me."

"I haven't done it either, idiot," she muttered back, her expression hardening into a glare. People assumed she had - because of how she dressed, how much she talked about sex, but... Who the hell did they think she'd been fucking, really? She didn't exactly know a lot of people.

The hesitation on his face faded and he smiled up at her, an odd moment of softness in the context of the situation. Even though it made her heart skip, she didn't return it, and instead she just gave an impatient groan, pressing her hips forward, trying to get to his mouth. His hands on her ass stopped her.

"Patience," he whispered, blowing over her clit. She wondered where he'd learned to play her body like an instrument if he was inexperienced, but she didn't ask. Probably the same place she had: the Internet.

She whined softly, "Please?"

He leaned up and she was thankful for a split second, but he moved right past the aching parts of her and pressed a gentle kiss to her mound, rubbing slightly chapped lips over her bare skin. She gasped, but kept her hips still, stayed exactly how he'd positioned her, ignored the pit of lava in her stomach.

"That's better." His mouth moved from her mound to pepper gentle kisses over her lips, soft pecks crisscrossing over the places she needed him to touch the most. It was maddening, almost, but she didn't complain. He glanced up at her with a smirk. "You learn quick."

She immediately thought of million sarcastic remarks about how he didn't even know what he was talking about, how he wasn't even old enough to classify as her 'Daddy,' probably, but she didn't let a single one of them escape her brain. She supposed he was right, then: she did learn quick, except for just one thing.

"Quickly," she whispered, in spite of herself. "The word you're looking for is quickly." He laughed, a deep, throaty sound, and pressed a lingering peck to her clit.

"You're right," he said, flicking his tongue out for a split second. She let out a sound caught somewhere between a gasp and a moan. "Ask nicely, and I'll do it." His tongue darted out once more, dragging a slow circle over her clit, and she couldn't help herself.

Most of the resolve she had crumbled, melted away by the heat between her legs. She was ravenous, her mouth dry and her heart slamming and her breathing short, barely even happening, and she would've done anything he asked her to, probably.

"Please," she whispered, closing her eyes. She was embarrassed, still, by having to beg him. It made her cheeks burn again, more than any time before, but the humiliation mixed with her desperation and desire, making her stomach twist pleasantly.

His hands both slid around to her pussy, spreading her lips open. She glanced down at herself, swollen and pink, flushed, glistening even in the dim lighting of her bedroom. The scent of her flooded the air so strongly that she was sure even he could smell her, a sweet musk that seemed to linger. His tongue dragged along the length of her lips, on the inside, from the top of the right one to the top of the left, stopping to press just the tip into her slit before it darted away again. She had never felt so exposed, so embarrassed. She whimpered yet again.

"Do it right," she whispered, urging him on. "Please." But to no avail. He just licked another circle around her, slower this time.

"C'mon, Erica. You can do better than that. Tell Daddy what you want." Every word he spoke sent a gust of warm air over her clit, making her shiver.

She hesitated for a moment, with her dignity creeping back up on her. The one iota of resolve she had left fought against the desperation bubbling in the pit of her stomach. Seemingly able to sense this, he coaxed her with a long swipe of his tongue from her slit all the way up to her clit, pursing his lips to suck at it gently. Her eyes fluttered closed again. Her dignity vanished, her resolve vanished, anything other than the pounding heat between her legs and how desperately she needed him vanished.

"Lick my pussy, daddy," she murmured softly. "Make me cum in your mouth. I-I wanna.. fuck, fuck," she paused as his tongue pressed against her clit, flattened and firm, with his hands slipping back to cup her ass, guiding her hips to grind her against his mouth. She took the direction, moving herself too, unable to hold back a soft moan. She was already close, but she tried to fight the sensation off by distracting herself with continuing, "I want to be so wet your cock slides right into me, Daddy. I want you to stretch my tight little pussy out over your cock, and let me kiss you with the taste of me on your tongue. I- fuck, I'll do anything you want." Her voice was still a murmur, and apparently, he liked what she said, because he moaned lowly against her clit. The vibrations spread through her like wildfire and she cried out softly, reaching out to brace herself on the wall behind her bed.

She was still close. Right on the edge. She needed to be distracted more, so she dug deeper, trying to recall things she'd thought of before. Her mind was blank, only able to concentrate on the sensation of his tongue on her clit, his hands guiding her hips, but she managed anyway.

 

"I'd let you pick a hole and fuck it, Stiles. Any hole, I don't... It doesn't matter. All of them."

She was rewarded for her words by one of Stiles' hands slipping between her ass cheeks, dragging its way over her asshole and down to her slit, where it teased her for a split second before pressing inside. She felt herself stretching to accommodate it, felt each of his knuckles slide past her slit until his hand was pressed flush against her, and she crooned quietly. His knuckles were so thick, thicker than hers by far, but it wasn't enough.

"More," she whispered softly.

"Nicely," he replied, muffled. "Ask nicely."

Something bitter bubbled up in the back of her throat again, but for some reason, all she said was, "Please. Please give me more. I need - fuck, I need to be filled up, please. It hurts. I hurt."

It was true. The aching deep inside of her had only gotten worse. She knew his tongue wouldn't be enough on its own, and one finger wasn't doing to do much for her, either. But she didn't have to worry about that, because he added a second finger without hesitation. It was met with more resistance, because two of his fingers were like three of hers, but he worked it into her by pulling his finger out just a bit and sliding it back in slow, opening her pussy up for him.

"Oh fuck," she whispered, grinding down eagerly. She was about to whine again, about to beg for more still, when he pulled his fingers almost entirely out, leaving just the very tips, and pushed them back in slowly, letting her feel them in their entirety. She moaned lowly. His fingertips were calloused, his knuckles thick, his fingers somehow perfect for her, sliding in and out of her pussy like they were made for it.

"Fuck yes, Daddy. Oh my God, Stiles, that feels so good. You're gonna make me cum, baby, don't stop." She wasn't going to keep fighting it, now. She couldn't. She needed to cum for him more than she needed to take her next breath.

He pulled away from her clit, giving her a few apologetic licks, and said, "Cum for me, Erica. Show daddy what a good little slut you are." She should have been offended. She should have defended herself. She should have done virtually anything other than shudder violently and, with a cry of his name, cum almost on command.

She kept grinding down against his fingers even after she came, still unsatisfied. The ache was there, always there, burning her up from the inside. He pulled his fingers out of her and groaned softly.

"Look what you did." Her eyes opened, and she could've came again just from the sight she was met with. The majority of his face was sticky and glistening, and his fingers were soaked, sticky. He spread them slowly to show her a thin film between them, before he brought them up to his mouth, sucking them clean. His hands moved back down and he dragged them over her, gathering more of her juices to suck off of his fingers.

"God, you get so wet, Erica. All for me," he said it like a statement, but it was more of a question. She nodded eagerly.

"All for you, just... Fuck me, like you said. I need - I don't know, I just need something. Cock, I need cock. Yours. Fuck me." She was barely able to string a sentence together, even a plea, but it didn't bother him.

His hands came to her hips and he picked her up with surprising ease, moving her onto her back. He reached down to undo his jeans, shoving them down and kicking them off, along with his shoes and boxers. He was back between her legs quickly, fully nude now, and she took a moment to drink in the view.

Creamy, flushed skin, spattered with freckles and beauty marks she longed to taste, tight muscles just barely defining the curves of his body, and between his legs, his cock. Thick and bigger than she'd expected, flushed pink with a prominent vein streaking up the side and a beauty mark off to the side of the head, just beneath the slit. Her mouth watered at the sight, her mind flashing to how it would feel to have him sit and let her kneel in front of him, dragging her tongue over every single mark on his entire body until she reached that one, her new favorite. The one just for her. No one would see it again. A sudden wave of possessiveness made her growl. He didn’t even spare her a glance.

She reached out to curl her fingers around his cock, squeezing. He was hard and throbbing, she could feel his heartbeat like this. She rubbed the pad of her thumb over the head, teasing the slit just barely, ghosting over the freckle. The sound he made was beautiful, somewhere between a moan and a sigh, and his head fell down to her shoulder, his hips rocking into her hand. She turned her head to kiss his temple.

"Wait, Erica. I, uh. I don't have a condom," he mumbled apologetically. He pulled back to look up at her. His eyes were caught somewhere between regret and apology, but she saw the tiniest glimmer of hope there, she thought.

"Neither do I," she replied, biting her lip. "I don't want to... I don't have anything, you know. So we don't..." She trailed off.

He picked up for her, "Need one?" She nodded shyly. He stared at her for a few seconds, presumably weighing his options, then he nodded. "I'll pull out."

She shook her head in return.

"No you won't. I want you to cum inside me," she replied, a statement with no room for argument. She felt his cock twitch in her hand and he nodded, eager and suddenly unconcerned with anything else.

"Yeah, okay."

She moved her empty hand up to his hip, guiding his body up to hers, arching her hips to rub the head of his cock against her clit. Both of them moaned, so she kept it up for a few seconds, until she couldn't take it anymore. Then she slowly slid his cock down, dragging it over her pussy, getting it as wet as she could, to help him.

She pressed him against her slit, and raised her eyes up to his face.

"C'mon," she urged softly, leaning in to kiss him. It was soft, lingering, and then she pressed their foreheads together, dropping her gaze down to where his cock dipped into her ever so slightly. His hand wrapped around the base of his cock and he held himself steady while he pushed into her, both of them holding their breath.

It hurt. She noticed immediately, but it was overpowered by something else. A sting that she loved, maybe even craved, the feeling of her body stretching to accommodate his cock, of every muscle within her contracting around him, trying to pull him deeper. The sensation of being stretched out - of being filled up, finally, of completion totally overwhelmed anything else. She gave a breathless gasp and pressed up, helping him to slide deeper into her.

"Oh fuck, Erica." His voice came out a whimper. "Oh my God, you're so fucking tight. I'm not sure you can take it." Even as he said it, he pushed forward, stretching her out over him.

The sight was enough to make her mouth water again - her, opening up around him, and him steadily sinking deeper and deeper, getting closer and closer to her. How wet he'd made her showed now more than before, with her juices gushing out of her around his cock, making him glisten.

"Make me," she responded, pushing up against him, struck again by that amazing feeling, the fullness. She growled lowly. "Force it, Daddy. You said I was a slut for you - your slut, so c'mon. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me." Each time she said it, it was more of a growl.

She brought her hands up to cup her tits through her tank top, catching her nipples between her fingers. She pinched them just a bit, hoping to alleviate some of the pressure steadily building between her hips. She didn't expect his hands to come up and bat hers away, but feeling them made her moan all the same. One of them pushed her shirt up while the other snaked beneath it, finding one of her breasts and cupping it, pressing her nipple between its pointer and middle finger. She was more than a handful, spilling out over the edges of his palm, and she couldn't help gasping softly, between the contrast of his rough skin against hers and the sight of his hands on her. He moved his hand a bit, so he pinched her nipple between his thumb and his pointer finger, rolling it between them. She whined, but it quickly escalated into a moan as he finally, unexpectedly, pushed forward hard enough to force his cock into her, his hips pressed flush against hers.

She forced her eyes open to look up at him again, as desperate for the sight as the feeling. He was shaking, his eyes closed, sweat covering his face. She leaned up to lick a line of it off of his collarbone, groaning softly at the taste. Desire. Desire, desire, desire. That was all he tasted like. Just for her.

"Move, Stiles," she pleaded, her voice soft. When he didn't, she said it again, louder, "Daddy? Daddy. Move."

That seemed to be what he wanted to hear, because he did. His hips pulled back just a bit, with about an inch of his cock sliding out of her before he pressed back in, rolling his hips when they met hers again. Her eyes fluttered and, even though she struggled to keep them open, they closed. He did that a few more times, until she begged for more again, bucking her hips up into his. He got his hands on her thighs then, pulling her legs up over his shoulders and leaning over her, forcing his cock deeper.

She gasped, "Yes. Oh, fuck, yes," and pushed up against him again. "Give me your cock, Daddy. Please."

His cock twitched within her, making her whine, and then he started to thrust into her again, harder and faster than before. The sound of his balls slapping against her ass filled the room, along with groans from him and moans from her, soft bursts of pleas and praises, the sound of skin against skin.

"Oh my God, Erica - babe, I'm close. I'm so close." His voice was higher than usual, shaking. He sounded beautiful like this; she could've listened to it for the rest of her life. "Tell me you want me to cum inside you, Erica. Tell Daddy you want his cum to fill you up."

She shuddered and gave a quick nod, before she started to speak, barely even audibly, "Fuck, cum for me, Daddy. Fill me up, fill my pussy up. I - oh my God, I want you to leave me gaping. Dripping. I want your scent on me. Mark me. I'm yours."

He tensed for a moment, his entire body trembling, before he let out a guttural groan of her name. A sudden flood of warmth made her shake too, and she snaked a hand down to rub her middle finger against her clit in quick, desperate circles. It didn't take long for her to push herself over the edge, with another cry of Stiles' name, and she melted when she did, finally feeling satisfied. She closed her eyes and heaved a shaky sigh.

"Oh my God," she whispered.

"Yeah," he replied, sounding a little awestruck, himself. He came to lay beside her and she rolled onto her side, putting her head on his shoulder.

"My dad is working tonight. Night shift, uh. He'll be gone. So I don't have anywhere to be..."

"What're you getting at, Stilinski?" She asked, knowing fully well, as she peppered kisses over his neck and shoulders. "You wanna stay here?" He nodded languidly, and she hummed against his skin. "Yeah, okay. You can stay here."

She draped her arm over his waist and pressed closer. His arms came down to wrap around her, gathering her up against his body. She'd probably never felt safer, really, and she thought about telling him that.

"It's nice," she started, but she stopped immediately. That didn’t sound right. It was more than ‘nice’. It was right, she thought, being in his arms, being with him. He was right. She licked her lips, tried to calm the trembling of her thighs, and approached the situation again after a few seconds, calmer now.

"You make me feel safe. I'm happy, here. I'm happy when I'm with you." It was a simple thing to say, but it was huge, something she would only say in the safe tranquility of the night, with him so tangled up in her he couldn't run away. She had tried to run, once, and she thought their relationship had dealt with more than enough running.

He leaned down to press his mouth against her forehead.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Me too."

She couldn't help smiling, trying in vain to press closer to him even though they were as close as could be. They lay in silence for a while, with him finding her hand to lace their fingers together tightly for a while before she eventually wound up playing the big spoon to his little spoon, holding his body against hers with a fierce protectiveness she'd never felt for anyone else before. She was kissing over the freckles on his back, connecting them into constellations, when she caught the time on the clock. Midnight. On a school night. She winced.

"You know how Daddy can take care of me now?" She teased, dragging her lips over his shoulder and neck, up to kiss his jaw.

He smirked and cocked his head, looking back at her over his shoulder. "How?"  
She laughed and put her hands on his hips, shoving him out of the bed without any effort at all.

"Turn off the light, dork. We have school tomorrow," she said, still chuckling to herself. "You're really, really cute, you know. It's pretty easy to get you worked up, huh?"

He grumbled to himself while he crossed the room.

“What, am I supposed to treat you like a princess now?” He muttered, more to himself than to her, but she answered him regardless, with a sing-song, “Yep!”

As he reached up to place his hand next to the light switch, he paused and leaned against it, glancing at her over his shoulder. He was smirking again, with the same look in his eyes that had gotten them here in the first place, with her sprawled over her bed with his cum dripping down her thighs and him covered in scratches she didn’t remember giving him, and even a bite mark or two decorating his shoulders. She tried to pretend it didn’t affect her, though, and just cocked her eyebrows at him.

“What?” She challenged, sitting up on her knees. She peeled her tank top off and tossed it across the room, nearly laughing out loud at the way his eyes widened, how they followed every bounce of her chest as she settled back down on her back.

He cleared his throat and forced his eyes up to her face, arching his eyebrows right back at her.

"I was just thinking, Princess, you're talking a lot of shit for someone who's going to be begging for my cock in about five minutes." And then he flipped the light switch, cloaking them in darkness, but she still heard his footsteps as he crossed the room to get back to her.

As stubborn as she was, and as much as she hated losing, she couldn’t argue with that. He was absolutely right.


End file.
